I dreamt about Hayley last night. I remember that she had stolen from a hotel and we were kicked out of room 1025. I don't know what she stole. I don't know what hotel it was. I remember crying to a man that I felt like a pariah.
Pariah.
- I feel like a pariah because my daughter is a heroin addict
- I feel like a pariah because I chose not to raise my granddaughter
- I feel like a pariah because I've never met my granddaughter
- I feel like a pariah because I cannot love my daughter enough to fix her
She had sneaked out of the house, a ground floor apartment, by removing the screen to her window and crawling out into the darkness. She may have been 10 years old. By the time she was in 9th grade high school I knew she was doomed.
I play the "would have, should have, could have" game all of the time. I would have waited to by her a cell phone. I should have kept her off of the Internet. I could have monitored her more closely. The guilt I carry for being a working mom is immense and runs deeper than any current in the ocean. I feel like a complete failure as a mother.
I should have done something. But, what? We found out the hard way that the law was not on our side, ever. There were no resources to be had.
She started sneaking out of the house the summer of her 10th grade year. It began with small clues; I would go out on the front porch to have my coffee and noticed that the window was open. It was a window we never opened because there was no screen. That was strange. Hayley lied about it. That was not strange. I remember we had a bad snow storm in December and I had gotten up early to shovel. There had to have been a foot of snow and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why there were tire tracks where my car was parked on the street. I hadn't driven it since parking it the night before. It had snowed all night. The snow in the street should have been pristine.
I always walked the dogs when it was dark in the morning. On another occasion I was just leaving the house and my car was gone. I went back in the house and couldn't find my purse. My heart was pounding. I was beyond livid. I knew she had taken the car. I called the police to report my car as stolen. I was told that since I knew the person who had taken it, it was stolen. It didn't matter that this kid had never had a driving lesson, a learner's permit, and was taking the car without my permission. I was frustrated. As I left the house again there she was, getting out of my car, MY purse in hand, looking smug. Looking like she dared me to say something.
She was skipping school or wouldn't go at all. We went to the counselor at East High School. I tried to make them understand that I was terrified of my own child. I wanted it on record because at the time I was sure Hayley was going to sneak into my room in the middle of the night and kill me. The counselor looked at me like I was crazy. The school at one point threatened legal action if I didn't get Hayley going to school. How? I can't physically make her go! What the hell was I suppose to do if she wouldn't get up? I withdrew her from school and enrolled her in online classes. That was a waste of time because she didn't attend those, either. It did, however, remove the threat of legal action against me.
She started running away from home. How many times had we called the police? How many times did they show up at our door? I think about one argument we had, standing in Papa's bedroom doorway. I tried so hard to keep my cool. I did. It was like Hayley was out to push every, single, button I had. She told me she needed me to be a friend like so and so's mom was. I told her I was her parent, not her friend. I lost my cool. I grabbed her neck. I said nothing staring into her eyes. I didn't know this person at all. Her eyes were full of hate and she was looking right through me. I knew right then she had no soul. Her eyes got big and then she ran out the front door. I almost threw up. I was shaking so hard and I knew soon there would be a knock on the door. There was. It was Officer Slaughter from the Denver Police Department with Hayley. I was sure he was going to arrest me. What he did that night was a complete act of mercy. He got Hayley to admit that she had thought about committing suicide and promptly took her off for a psychiatric hold. That was ten days of relief.
From there it was more running away and skipping school. She was just shy of her 16th birthday when she ran away the last time. She moved in with her loser boyfriend at his mom's house. Mom's name is Dana. Dana never called us to hear our side of the story. She just bought into whatever garbage Hayley told her about me.
We spent the next two years waiting. Waiting until she turned 18. Waiting until she was of legal age and we would no longer be responsible for her. She OD'd the first time during that two years.
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